


First

by SaintHeretical



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Established Reylo, F/M, M/M, Self-cest, Soft Ben Solo, Surprise feelings, That's Not How The Force Works, Threesome - F/M/M, Time Travel, Yeah that's right, breylo - Freeform, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 10:03:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintHeretical/pseuds/SaintHeretical
Summary: She’s never asked him about it.Even the first time she touched him, both of them high on adrenaline and blissed out with victory, tearing off their clothes as they barrelled through the Falcon without a care in the world. Her fingers tugged on his pants and she stuttered, “Have you–?”, to which he responded with a breathy, “Yeah, once” before gently capturing her bottom lip between his teeth.a Breylo fic forKyloTrashForever





	First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KyloTrashForever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/gifts).

> I know, I KNOW
> 
> This isn't a regular thing for me. This is all for KTF because she is uhhhhh-MAZING and deserves the world and everything in it, so I wrote her Breylo but my style? Kind of? 
> 
> Anyway, if you're freaked out, don't be. I'm not a Breylo writer all of a sudden, however if you're into it, I HIGHLY recommend KTF's work!!!
> 
> Special thanks to TourmalineGreen for giving this a look and not thinking less of me afterwards

She’s never asked him about it.

Even the first time she touched him, both of them high on adrenaline and blissed out with victory, tearing off their clothes as they barrelled through the Falcon without a care in the world. Her fingers tugged on his pants and she stuttered, “Have you–?”, to which he responded with a breathy, “Yeah, once” before gently capturing her bottom lip between his teeth. 

And then many years later, comfortably in love and eager to try something different, with him on his back and her nudging his ass with a synth skin toy, she paused and wondered “Have you–?”, to which he responded with a mumbled, “Uh, yeah, once” before digging his toe into her back to urge her forward. 

It’s only a few years after that, once they’ve done almost everything two humans could conceivably do with each other (and then a bit more) that she voices the question she’s been wondering about for the entire duration of their tumultuous relationship:

“Who was your first?”

At this point, it would be as easy as breathing to reach into his mind and pluck out the answer, but that’s not the point. They’ve only made it this far because of mutual respect and restraint regarding their bond, and besides, she wants to hear him say it. Wants to hear any regret, any guilt or longing that may colour his response. She’s not jealous, _per se_. It’s hard to be jealous of anyone after everything they’ve been through, but still she feels like she needs to know this one thing, this one hidden aspect of the man she knows so intimately.

He turns over in bed to face her, and wrinkles his nose as a lock of greyish-black hair falls into his eyes. “Hmm? It was nothing, really.”

“Nothing.” She ignores the way her shoulder pops as she props herself up and squints at him in the darkness. “So you’re saying the _experience_ wasn’t good, or are you saying that the person meant nothing?”

“I didn’t– no, not that.” His cheeks flush, and he looks away.

Now she’s intrigued. To think that _Kylo Ren_, former Supreme Leader of the First Order is blushing like a bride thinking about his first time makes her crave the story even more than before. Thinking back, she prods him again. “Was it with a man?” she whispers. “Because you know that doesn’t bother me, right?”

“I know, I know,” he mutters. 

She waits for more, but he seems resolved to pointedly stare at the wall until she passes out from boredom. “So I was still your first female?” she asks, reaching her hand under the blanket to poke him in the belly. 

“I didn’t say that.”

“So there were more then?” Her heart thumps in her chest. She hasn’t considered this before; that her sweet, awkward, Darksider partner could have completely played the field before meeting her, without her knowing at all. She just assumed– but really, wasn’t it on her, really? She should have asked him about this _ages _ago. “Did you have...a lot of sex before we got together?”

“_Rey_,” he groans in that tone of voice he gets when she’s about to spiral down into something ridiculous. “No, I did not have a lot of sex. Like I told you, it was one time, and it was...it was…”

His voice trails off as he looks back at her and just...stares. Like _really_ stares, as if he’s trying to memorize every pore and wrinkle on her face. As he stares, he reaches his hand up to graze his chin, stroking the trim beard he’s been growing for the past few years. Rey lays there, frozen under his gaze as he squints at her mouth before his eyes trail down to her simple nightclothes.

“Huh.”

“What’s ‘huh’?” she asks. “Why are you acting so strange? Also, you didn’t finish your answer.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that…” His voice trails off, and he strokes his beard a few more times. “Huh.”

Suddenly, he waves his hand and their bedroom lights flicker on. She mashes her face with her hands, temporarily blinded, and when she opens them he’s already run over to her side of the bed and is shoving her cloak into her arms. 

“Here, take this.”

“Ben, what are you–?”

“Call me Kylo,” he blurts out. 

She frowns. “Call you–?”

It’s a sex thing. It _has_ to be a sex thing; that’s always been the only reason that name has ever been brought up in their home after the war, and even then he hasn’t mentioned it in, oh, it must be at least five years now. Confused as hell, she stumbles out of bed and shoves her arms into the sleeves of her cloak as B-_Kylo_ does the same with his. 

“Is this a sex thing?” she hisses as he starts rummaging through his bedside table. “Where are you taking me? Is it the Falcon again? Because honestly, that bed is not–”

“No, no, not the Falcon.” He grabs a tiny leather drawstring pouch then, with a tongue click of triumph, retrieves a small bottle of lube, which he stuffs into his pocket.

Her eyes go wide. “Wait, are we–? Are you taking me to meet this...your...the person you lost your–?”

He pauses in the middle of prying the pouch open. “No? Yes? I– I know this doesn’t make sense but--_aha_!” He inverts the pouch, which deposits a jagged black stone onto his upturned palm. 

Rey steps closer, curious. “What is that?”

“I don’t know,” he breathes. “I’ve done some study on it over the years and the closest I’ve come to is the Jedi legend of the World Between Worlds.” Holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he lifts the stone up to the light, revealing a swirly, smokey vein of white running through the black, which throbs and breathes with life. “There’s descriptions of portals, constructed from material that sounds a lot like this.”

“What does it do?”

“I’m not sure, but I think–” Pausing, he reaches out his free hand to squeeze hers. “–I think that you should hold on.”

“Hold on? But why?”

She wants to ask more, but suddenly the stone begins to glow and Kylo closes his eyes, his forehead wrinkling in concentration. Their bedroom starts to go fuzzy, so she shakes her head and tries to rub her eyes again, but he’s gripping her hand super hard as the ground begins to shake. 

“Also yeah.” He grins, his eyes still closed. “This is totally a sex thing”

Then the world begins to spin and everything goes black. 

* * *

She opens her eyes and it’s night. 

But this is different. Instead of their quiet, forested yard, she’s arrived at what looks like a modestly developed compound, overshadowed by a looming, domed structure several hundred metres in the distance. She’s standing next a plain round hut, smaller than their house and surrounded by other huts of a similar size and shape. It all feels vaguely familiar, but she can’t recall any time she’s been to this place.

Fortunately, Kylo’s right next to her, still wrapped in his black cloak and looking alert, if not a bit surprised. He’s been here before; she can tell by the way he’s fixated on the hut next to them and not surveying the landscape for potential threats. 

“Kylo, where are we–?” She bites her tongue when she hears a noise, choked back like a moan of pain coming from the hut. 

Kylo laughs, silently. “Of course, I can’t believe it. The walls here were so…well, you’ll see.”

With his hand still gripping hers, he tugs her over to the hut and, before she can protest, confidently ducks under the curtained door to enter it. It’s darker inside, devoid of the starlight and fire from the sporadically placed torches outdoors. Her eyes takes a minute to adjust before she can just make out a spartan desk, storage chest, and bed, upon which lies a tall figure undulating rhythmically under the blanket.

Then it hits her. The figure is lankier, yes, and his hair is shorter and still pure jet black but....if she squints, she can _just_ make out what appears to be a lightsaber on his nightstand and—

“Hey Ben.”

Kylo’s voice is rougher than usual, pitched to be intimidating and a bit dangerous. Its sounds simultaneously sexy and absolutely ridiculous, but Rey doesn’t have time to laugh because the other man, the other _Ben, _reaches out his hand with a shout of alarm and calls his lightsaber to his grasp, only she’s way, way quicker and diverts it to her hand instead, thumbing on the switch and bathing the room in a wash of pure blue light.

It’s striking how different he looks. Soft, unmarred, uncracked, much like the kyber crystal thrumming under the cool metal lightsaber hilt she’s holding. His brown eyes go wide, then she feels the blunt prod of him trying to read her mind, and she grins.

“Try harder, love.” 

He turns to Kylo, who rolls his eyes and stares back. Ben chokes. “Y-you’re me?”

“I am.” 

“_How_?”

“You grew up.” Kylo steps forward, and Ben shrinks back onto his bed.

“Well, then who are you?” He points a shaking finger at Rey, who looks over at Kylo.

He chuckles. “She’ll be the whole universe to you, one day.”

Rey can only stare at the young man who will one day become her Ben. He’s so _innocent, _like a soft porglet dressed in a cream coloured pyjama set, his hair mussed from sleep and his cheeks red from...his activities before they arrived. Part of her wants to scoop him up and take him back with her, to save him from the indescribable heartache and horrors he’ll face and inflict. She thinks of Han, thinks of how amazing it would be for Ben to enter into mature adulthood with his father at his side, and she–

“You can’t.”

Kylo brushes her hand with his, and gives her a small, mournful smile. “If you remove him, then I will cease to exist. As you know me, that is.”

“What?” She frowns at him, then looks back at Ben, who appears to be frozen from the shock of meeting his older, darker self from the future. “So you’re saying that he...is actually you? As in, you remember this happening? As in–”

Her tongue feels like jogan jelly in her mouth, because it _hits_ her all of a sudden. Why they’re here, why Kylo’s been so cagey, why he’s removing his cloak and dropping it to the floor with that gleam in his eye that he gets when he _wants _her. 

_Oh_. 

Ben immediately picks up on the charged atmosphere in his little hut and tugs his blanket up to his shoulders. “W-what are you doing?” he hisses. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Kylo pulls off his nightshirt, which joins his cloak on the floor. “Getting comfortable.”

Ben stares back at him like he’s gone completely insane. “You’re not going to…” His eyes flick over to Rey. “Because I’ll yell. And Master Skywalker will find you and–”

“Luke isn’t going to interrupt us,” Kylo purrs. “And don’t pretend that you aren’t already hard in those pyjama pants of yours. Remember, _I know everything_. I know all your thoughts, your desires...I know what you think about when you’re alone at night.”

Rey can’t stop staring at both of them, at the way Ben’s eyes go round and wide as Kylo’s narrow and glitter mischievously. She can’t say this is what she expected when she realized where, and _when_, they are, but at the same time there’s a part of her that’s jumping at the opportunity to touch him and kiss him and make him feel good amidst the conflict and unease swirling in his mind. Her Ben has shared at great length about how he felt at this age; how lost and alone he was, how isolated and terrified at the notion that his grandfather was the terrible Darth Vader. 

And now she can make him feel good. _Very_ good. She knows his body almost as well as she knows her own, all of the special spots and secret places that he may not have discovered yet himself, and she feels herself go dizzy with the idea of showing him the limits of his own pleasure. 

Her belly goes warm, and she feels herself grow wet as her heart pounds in her chest. She lets her cloak slide off of her shoulders and slither to the floor. “What do you think, Ben?” she breathes, taking a step closer. “Would you like me to touch you?”

He whirls around to face her, his cheeks flaming. “Would I–?” he whines. “Is–is this a trap?”

“No trap,” she vows. Her eyes lock with his. “I just want to make you feel good. Please, may I?”

He’s squirming under his blankets, unable to look away from her as she slowly unbuttons her nightshirt and peels it off of her smooth, tanned skin. She’s not as young as she used to be; her once tight abs have gone soft with disuse, and her modest breasts have sagged slightly, but the way Ben’s gaping at her naked chest makes her feel like the most gorgeous woman in the galaxy. It’s the same face Kylo made the first time _he_ saw her naked, which makes perfect sense.

Speaking of which–She turns to her partner, who’s also admiring her body, albeit with a note of smugness in his expression. “Is there anything I shouldn’t do?” she wonders.

Kylo shrugs and tilts his chin in Ben’s direction. “Ask him. I’m up for anything.”

“Okay then.” She looks back at Ben. “Are you okay with this?”

“T-this has to be a trap,” he repeats. “Or a test. Is this part of the trials? The Trial of the Flesh?” His eyes flick to the curtained windows, as if he’s sure Luke is lurking behind them, ready to burst in as soon as he does something forbidden. 

“Not a trial. I swear it.”

He holds a hand in front of himself, as if he could ward her off the way he’s shaking. “But that’s what you would say if you were part of a trial.”

“What am I then?” drawls Kylo, looming behind Rey like a dark spectre. “Some manifestation of your subconscious? Of the Dark Side you’re trying to suppress?”

“Please Ben.” Rey surges forward and wraps his shaking hand in hers, then brings his knuckles up to her lips for a kiss. He shudders, and his eyes flutter closed. “Please, let me make you feel good. Let _us_ make you feel good.”

Brow furrowing, he leans just a bit closer, mouth parted and she takes it as his consent. She leans over and presses her lips to his, ghosting her tongue against the seam of his mouth but not pushing. Instead, she allows him to melt into it, to allow the shock of everything slowly dissipate until he’s pliant under her, his shaking hands hovering awkwardly around her shoulders. “You can touch me,” she breathes. “Please.”

His hands are clammy when they finally rest on her. The room shifts; it’s like two magnets connecting, like it’s always been when she and Kylo touch. She hadn’t expected it to feel the same, but they _are_ the same. Even though Ben’s eyes are wider and his face is younger and he touches her like she’s made of glass, he’s still the same man who holds her every night, who’s fought for her and _killed_ for her, and it makes her heart swell.

“C-can you show me?” he mumbles. “How to make you feel good?”

“Of course,” she whispers. “Take me to your bed.”

She’s barely settled on the hard mattress when he practically collapses on her, swallowing her squeak of surprise with hot, open mouthed kisses. It reminds her of her first few times with Kylo, so eager and anxious to please that his self-consciousness fell away in a mess of sloppy affection. She tries to kiss him back, but he’s too frantic so she focuses on what she knows he loves.

A nibble on the soft skin next to his jaw. 

A groan against his lips.

The light drag of her tongue against the shell of his ear. 

She unwraps his body from the modest pyjamas. He’s leaner than her Kylo, still solidly built but lacking the thick, corded muscle she’s used to. Conspicuously, he’s obviously missing the long jagged scar bisecting his face and carving a channel in his chest. It’s jarring to see him without the mark she gave him, like looking at the body of a stranger instead of her future enemy, partner, bondmate. 

His roaming hands still and he pulls back. “Is it...am I alright?” he says, nervously. 

“Hush.” She kisses him now, soft and lingering. “You’re perfect.”

He blushes. It’s _adorable_. “No, I’m...I’m nothing. You’re perfect. You–”

His voice cuts off with a strangled moan as she runs featherlight touches against the side of his chest, almost close enough to tickle, but not quite. It’s one of Kylo’s most sensitive erogenous zones, and Ben nearly _swoons_ when she does it. “I have a lot of practice,” she confesses. 

Then she pushes him to his knees as she pulls off her sleep shorts and spreads her legs before him. He looks like it’s his birthday, or he’s about to die– really a strange mixture of both to be honest. Gently, she nudges him forward until his nose is nearly touching her folds. 

He’s shaking again. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

Rey looks up from the bed, past Ben’s vibrating shoulders, to where Kylo is perched on a modest wooden stool next to the desk. He’s shirtless, still wearing his pants, and is just _watching_ the two of them, his gaze dark and hungry. “Kylo,” she purrs. “Would you like to give him some instruction?”

“It would be my pleasure.” 

He stalks toward them, his bare feet soundless on the roughspun floor. Squatting down next to Ben, he leans over and lowers his lips to the other man’s ear. “It’s like licking a bantha cream treat, and a million times more delicious. Focus on the top, where the–”

“I-I know that part,” Ben stutters. “I’m just–”

“–you’re nervous.” Smiling, Kylo pats him on the shoulder. “I know. If it makes you feel any better, I know for a fact that you make her come.”

___That_ reinvigorates him. The first stroke of his tongue against her is firm, confident, with just enough drag to make her toes curl. She loses herself to the sensations, falling back onto the hard, Jedi-issue mattress and digging her fingers into Ben’s hair as he worships her cunt, while Kylo rubs his thigh and mutters encouragement.

She’s getting so close, her limbs twitching as he laves at her clit with just enough pressure. It’s ridiculous, the fact that this is his first time and he’s already _so good_, but then again why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he when he’s being coached by the man who’s been eating her out for the better part of two decades, whose lips and nose and clever tongue have made her come far too many times to count?

Then she leans up to take another look, right as Kylo leans over to run his tongue against Ben’s earlobe, and she feels her world _explode_. Ben’s moaning into her folds and her vision is whiting out as her body is wrought with delicious, mind blowing tremors. There’s lips on her neck, her breasts, her belly, coaxing her down from her high, and all she can see is warm brown eyes and flushed skin.

She comes back to herself in time for Ben to crawl up her body. He cradles her face in his large hand, and kisses her with his slick-stained mouth. “Was I good?”

“You’re perfect,” she confesses into the corner of his lips. “Always have been.”

She loses herself in him, in his earnest grip and desperate moans. It’s so different from Kylo and yet so similar, enough that it doesn’t feel strange at all. No, it’s more delicious than anything, like a sinful treat that’s decadent yet guiltless, as she sucks a bruise into Ben’s neck while Kylo watches them, his chest heaving.

“Okay,” he announces, rising up from his squat to loom over them. “It’s my turn.”

“Oh.” Ben face twists, raw jealousy blooming in his eyes. “Right, uh, yeah.”

He looks down at Rey, then moves to climb off of her, but a large hand rests on his back, stopping him. “No, stay right where you are.”

“What?”

Then he shivers involuntarily as Kylo runs a thick finger down the ridge of his spine. “I said it’s my turn...with you.”

Ben stills. “But I’m not–”

“I know you’re not.” Kylo rubs his nose against the nape of Ben’s neck as his hands travel lower, _lower_. “But I know you’ve always been curious, and who better to try it with? We won’t tell anyone, and I promise I can make it good for you.”

With a nudge, he turns Ben’s head towards Rey. “She’s done it before. Many times.”

Ben chokes. “To you? Or you to her?”

“Both.” She lets the word tumble from her lips. “Many times.”

She tries to be cool, collected, even as she feels herself vibrating under her skin. Sex with a younger Ben is one thing, but to be with both of them at once? It’s something she would never have imagined possible, something precious and erotic and altogether too much. 

Ben closes his eyes. She can almost see the anxiety rolling off of him in waves. Kylo looms up behind him, wrapping a firm, muscled arm around his abdomen, and rests his hand firmly on Ben’s chest. “Just relax,” he coos. “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

“But I’ve never–”

“I know.” He drops a kiss to Ben’s shoulder. “But I know it’ll be so good for you too.”

Ben takes in a deep breath, and closes his eyes. “O-okay.”

Kylo retrieves the small bottle of lube from his discarded cloak as Rey urges Ben into her arms. “D-does it hurt?” he wonders, pulling back from her questing lips.

“Maybe a little, at first. But not for long, and then it’s wonderful.” 

The bed dips a bit more as Kylo joins them. Kneeling behind Ben, he deposits a dab of lube onto his fingers as Rey licks her way up Ben’s neck and nibbles on his earlobe. She can’t really see what’s happening, can only determine by the feel of his shoulders tensing and a bitten back moan when Kylo starts teasing Ben’s hole, coaxing him open with a single gentle finger.

“Have you done this to yourself before?” she whispers, conspiratorially. 

“Y-yes,” he admits. “Once or twice.” 

“Hmmm.” She drops a kiss on the tip of his nose. “Yes, I think you told me about that. About how you used to lick your finger and slide it into yourself and imagine someone, faceless, nameless, taking the time to make you feel good.”

He whimpers against her, his head dropping to rest on her shoulder, allowing her a glimpse of Kylo behind him, kissing his back and working one hand below her line of sight. “You’re doing so well,” Kylo rumbles, and Rey feels herself _clench._

There’s a small pool of wetness collecting on her belly, dripping from Ben’s swollen cock as he pants above her. He must be so, _so_ wrecked already, and they haven’t even gotten started. “Are you doing okay?” she asks. “Can you look at me?”

With a grunt of effort, he pulls his head upright and she almost gasps at the look on his face: bright eyed, tear stained, tension pulling at the corners of his cheeks. “Is it too much?” she breathes. “You can say it; it’s okay.”

“No,” he says between gritted teeth. “It’s, _ah_, it’s just too perfect.”

Kylo lets out a small chuckle behind him, and she smiles. “Isn’t it though?” She kisses his jawline again, dragging her tongue against the uneven stubble. “Have I told you yet how happy I am to meet you, and to be with you?”

“Y-yes? N-no? I don’t, I don’t– _augh_!”

Kylo pops his head up over Ben’s shoulder. “That’s three. I’m– I’m going to try the next part now, if you’re ready?”

Ben clenches his mouth into a hard line, takes a few breaths, and nods. Rey kisses his cheek then maneuvers herself a bit lower, until she’s able to rub against the aching head of his cock with her soft lower lips. His breath catches in his throat. 

“This will make it easier, I promise.”

Her eyes lock with Kylo’s and he nods, then slowly, _slowly_ eases himself forward as she slides herself down. He’s hard, just about ready to burst, but the encompassing, aching stretch of Kylo that she knows he’s feeling is enough to hold him off of orgasm. Ben makes a strangled, high pitched noise as his eyes fly open, hands scrambling against the sheets.

“Breathe,” she commands into the glistening planes of his chest. “Remember to breathe.”

“It’s...too much,” he groans. “I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“The tip is the hardest,” Kylo croons into his ear. “It’ll feel better soon. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

Ben takes in a few deep, calming breaths, interspersed with gentle kisses from Rey. She knows it’s hard, the soul splitting burn of taking Kylo for the first time is still a vivid memory despite the passing years, but it’s so, so worth it. After a moment, Ben pulls away from her and chokes out, “Okay.”

Then Kylo moves and for the second time that night, the world falls away. All she can see is _Ben_, the way his face twists with pleasure, eyes welling with unshed tears, a stream of grunts and profanities falling from his lips as Kylo groans into his back. She’s not close at all, kriff, she can barely_ feel_ anything down there, she’s so distracted by the sight of both men completely lost in pleasure, in a feedback loop of panting, moaning, thrusting, aching, lusty affection.

“Are you–?” Kylo’s voice is lost in a gulp of air. 

He thrusts again, causing Ben to shift deeper into her, and he gasps. He’s so close. Blood rushes to his cheeks, neck, chest, staining them a pretty shade of pink as he whimpers and chews his bottom lip. “Thank you,” he mumbles, pressing his sweaty forehead into hers. “Thank you, _thank you _so much, thank you.”

She sees the way he’s completely lost on top of her, and her heart _breaks_ for him. “I love you Ben,” she whispers against his trembling lips. “I love you so much.”

He sobs, and then she feels the telltale rush of warmth as he comes inside of her. Kylo grunts above him, thrusting twice more until he stills and buries his groans in Ben’s neck. And Rey...Rey watches, entranced, thanking every deity in the galaxy that she is able to watch this, to be here and love them and be loved in return. 

The aftermath is strange, but good. Kylo pulls out of Ben, eliciting winces and moans from both. Reluctantly, Ben pulls out of her as well, as Kylo gently cleans his spend off of his counterpart’s ass and legs with the discarded pyjamas before cleaning her up as well. She loves this part, loves the contrast between his aggresive fucking and careful aftercare, the way he looks at both of them with naked adoration in his gaze as he kneels before them like a loyal servant. 

Ben kisses her again, long and soft and sweet. It’s shy, compared to what they just did, and it makes her melt. “Are you out there, somewhere?” he wonders. His eyes scan her face, committing it to memory. “The other you?”

“She’ll be a bit young for you right now,” Kylo laughs. 

“But yes.” Rey kisses him back, and he _whimpers_. “We’ll find each other one day. And I can’t promise it’ll go well off the bat but– we’ll find each other.”

It’s only once they’re pulling on their cloaks as Ben watches, mournfully, from his bed, that Kylo remembers. “Uh, here,” he says, pulling the jet black stone from his pocket. “It’s how we got here. You’ll know when to use it.”

Then he leans over and kisses Ben, and Rey almost feels like looking away because it’s too intimate, the way he catches his own jaw with a firm grip and presses his soft lips into their equally lush copy, the way he knows exactly what the other man needs at this very moment. Ben’s throat makes a small whine as he lifts off the bed and buries his fingers in Kylo’s cloak, whispering a soft “_please stay” _against his mouth.

“We can’t.” Kylo’s voice breaks, and a lone tear drips down his cheek. Rey walks over and clenches his hand in hers, squeezing it. “We can’t because we’ve still got a destiny to fulfill. I-I know you’re scared.” He laughs, his voice wavering. “Believe me, I know. But I promise...I’ll always be with you.”

Ben slumps back onto his bed. “Will it ever stop?”

The voices. _Snoke_. Kylo stiffens next to her as he senses her thoughts, how desperately she wants to scour the Outer Rim and beyond, to find that wizened old cretin along with every other Sith remnant and wipe them from the galaxy. But she can’t, and she feels so helpless knowing the course of history and how much it will tear this young man apart. 

“One day,” Kylo promises. “It won’t be forever, I swear it.”

Then he pulls her away without a second look, ducking under the heavy fabric doorway before he gets a chance to change his mind. Rey looks up at him, and gasps. “Y-you’re fading!”

He smiles back. “So are you.”

Even in the flickering torch light, she can see his form start to fuzz around the edges. “I have to admit, I was a little worried about how we were going to get back, but I guess the Force has a mind of its own.”

“Indeed.” He loops his arm over her shoulders and tugs her close against his chest, then presses a kiss to her scalp. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For this. Even though I knew you were going to do it, since it already happened, I still...I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, of course!” She leans into his warmth. The sensation of slowly becoming non-corporeal is unsettling, but she’s calmed by the fact that she can start to smell the cozy, incense and laundry scent of their bedroom at home. 

“I’m just...really happy. That it’s done, and that we could do it for him. For me.”

“It’s the least I could do,” she mumbles. Her head is starting to feel funny, and if she squints, she can see the outline of her bed, still rumpled and so inviting. “Was it strange for you?”

“Yes? No.” His voice has lowered to a rumble in his chest. “I knew it was coming...known for over half my life. It was such a pivotal point in my life, for many reasons. You know I turned to Snoke just a week later?”

“Hmmmm.” She closes her eyes and thinks of Ben, of his sad, lonely gaze and trembling hands. “I wish we could do something. I really do.”

“I know.” Kylo pulls her even closer and takes a step forward. The night sky fades around them and Luke’s temple dissolves away, leaving only their familiar room. “Believe me, I know.”

* * *

It’s a hard few years. 

He wakes to his uncle looming over him with his lightsaber drawn, and _panics._ All he hears in his head is screaming and all he can see is flames, and before he knows it there’s the scent of blood in the air and buildings crumbled around him. He turns to Snoke and is swathed in black, _so much black_, and falls deeper down the dark pit he’s dug for himself.

Snoke calls him Kylo Ren, and he finally understands. 

More years pass. He wants to scour the galaxy for her, but the time and resources needed, along with Snoke’s ever present attention means that he’s never able to dedicate himself to the task. Instead, he spends his effort on repressing those particular memories, locking them up to keep them from his master’s prying grasp. They’re far too precious and sensitive, like a soft underbelly, and he both resents them out of shame and treasures them for giving him the will to live.

He’s in the middle of one of the most frustrating weeks of his life when he hears Mitaka mumble about _a girl_, and his swears his heart stops beating because of course she would be abetting a traitor. Of course they would be on opposite sides of an intergalactic war, because life would never miss a chance to kick him where it hurts the most.

He tries not to get his hopes up. The galaxy is full of millions of billions of girls, and just because his entire existence paused the moment he heard about her doesn’t mean that she’s _that_ girl. Even when he sees her face, sees those wide hazel eyes and determined expression, he represses his elation to a simmer. She could just look similar, sound similar, be almost identical and still not be _the one_. It’s been years after all; he’s not even sure he’s remembering her properly. Still, he lumbers through her head, looking for a sign, and all he can see is loneliness, waiting, and waves lapping on an island’s rocky peaks. 

When he leaves her for a moment she runs away, he destroys an entire room and almost drowns in his despair.

But the second time he sees her– _oh._ Drunk on adrenaline, power, darkness coursing through his veins as his blood drips on the snow. He whirls to face his grandfather’s lightsaber, reaches out with the Force and then– 

And then she ignites the saber, bathing her face in the purest blue light, and he _believes_.

_It is you._


End file.
